


Maybe You’ll Fix Me (Maybe You’ll Crush Me)

by Bella_Dahlia



Series: The Other Side of Love [1]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Background Archie/Betty, Background Archie/Veronica - Freeform, Background Bughead, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Relationships, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Gen, Male-Female Friendship, Or Is It?, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pop’s is the place to be, Slow Burn, White Wyrm is a dive, but it’s OUR dive, but sometimes they get put back together better, everything falls apart, onion rings are key
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-07 12:39:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13434900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bella_Dahlia/pseuds/Bella_Dahlia
Summary: “Tell me again how we’re so different in this scenario,” she repeated bitterly, her hands dropping her phone on the table in order to wrap around her arms. The fire that had been in her eyes just moments ago was completely doused, swimming instead with a loneliness that felt all too familiar in Jughead’s gut. He had spent the last year liking Veronica for the most part, even appreciating her at times, but he was honest when he said they didn’t actually know each other well. Right now, he realized perhaps he had avoided knowing her any better. Some primal part of him sensed something too close to his own damaged sense of self. Veronica may have gotten the hugs from her mother that Jughead still longed for from his own, but now he saw the kind of love and validation she missed out on. She was affection starved; so much so, that she didn’t know what to do with it when it finally arrived in her life.————Or, Jughead and Veronica finally bond like they really already should have.





	1. Nuance

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome, gentle reader, to my first foray into the world of Riverdale! If you happen to have the time and inclination, drop a line, the muse always appreciate being fed.
> 
> This piece begins immediately after 2.08.

 

There were few safe spaces for Jughead; places he could relax, and let his well practiced guard down. In the past year, whatever deity he offended appeared to be hellbent in taking those spaces away, one by one. The trailer. The Twilight Drive-In. Riverside High’s Blue and Gold offices. It tried to take Pop’s, in a multitude of ways—first by nearly shutting it down, and now by making it the most likely place he would run into Betty. The thought of having to make small talk after breaking up with her made his stomach do uncomfortable somersaults, so much so that he had sat on his bike for a good five minutes, debating the pros and cons of entering. Finally he took off his helmet and shoved on his beanie with lightning dexterity. The smell of fried food won out over all, it seemed.

It was early enough in the evening that Jughead secured his usual booth with ease, and after ordering he pulled out his laptop. He only had vague memories of the last time he seriously wrote, and now that his father effectively shut him out of the Serpents and he in turn effectively shut the door on his relationship... Well, at least he had time to dedicate to words.

Sometime after the first burger was consumed, Jughead fell into old habits and let his surroundings dissolve. He became so engrossed in his work that he didn’t even notice the petite brunette who entered with purpose and made a beeline for his table. Nor was he aware of her sliding into the opposing side of his booth, not until he felt his phone vibrate on the table next to him and saw the text that lit up his screen.

**V says: look up, Capote**

Jughead’s head snapped up, one hand instinctively beginning to pull his laptop screen shut. “Veronica—what...?”

Jughead was not exactly a Veronica expert, but he knew she didn’t look like herself. Her hair hung limp, her face scrubbed clean and lacking her impeccably polished veneer of makeup. It made her look vulnerable in a way he had never seen before.

“I—I think I broke up with Archie. Last night, in the parking lot of that stupid bar,” she blurted out. She brought her hands up to rest on the table, her phone clutched between them, giving them something to fiddle with.

There was a slight pause before Jughead rewarded her honesty with his own. “Well, I definitely broke up with Betty. Last night. In the parking lot of that stupid bar.”

“I know.” Veronica’s gaze flicked up from her hands to his face, searching. “Trust me, I found out Betty was not the most sympathetic ear to my plight given the circumstances.”

Jughead winced and finally closed his laptop completely. “I’m guessing that was... awkward.”

Veronica snorted. “I’m definitely not here to rehash that encounter.”

“Which does beg the question... why are you here?”

Veronica let out a slow sigh, slouching back in her side of the booth. Jughead couldn’t remember ever seeing her slouch before. Tonight was full of Veronica Lodge firsts. “Tell me, Forsythe,” she said, a touch of her old drama in her voice. “Why do we ruin the best things in our lives? How did we end up here?”

Jughead blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Veronica, despite whatever hard boiled facade I’ve managed to maintain with you, I’m not sure I have the clever insights you seek. You and I may have done the same thing on the same night, but we’re a study in opposites in terms of intention and motive.”

Veronica arched one well manicured brow. “I E, yours was noble and necessary and mine was not?”

“I don’t mean to assume your reasoning.”

“Reasoning is just another word for motive.”

Jughead shifted uncomfortably. “There are nuances of meaning...”

“No, no—no wiggling out of this.” Veronica leaned forward, pinning him with an intense stare. “Assume. Lay it out there. One hundred percent no pulling punches. I need some non sugar coated, no puppy dog eyes truth in my life, which means you’re my guy.”

For a moment Jughead said nothing, his gaze searching hers. “C’mon,” the brunette insisted, a hint of desperation in her voice. “What is wrong with me?”

“Veronica,” Jughead sighed, one hand rubbing the back of his neck self consciously. “We don’t actually know each other that well...”

“I know you well enough to know you threw away your relationship based on some ridiculous tragic hero complex,” she snapped back.

Jughead narrowed his gaze, sitting up a little straighter in the booth. “Watch it, Lodge.”

“You told her you had hit your expiration date, like a carton of milk. And for what—to save the girl because she doesn’t know what’s best for herself? A scoundrel with the best intentions, right, because you’re not good enough for her? That’s how much you respect her, that you can’t even let her make her own decisions. Don’t you think she gets that enough from her mother?”

Jughead knew how to spot someone intentionally goading him; he knew Veronica was pushing for a fight, and part of him even knew he should be the better person and not rise to it. But the other part of him was a sixteen year old who had been physically and mentally kicked too many times before.

“Better to be the asshole that loved her and let her go, than the jerk that couldn’t sum up the guts to even say I love you,” He spat back, his voice low but tightly tangled with emotion. “I don’t string good people along, have a good time with them, and then toss them aside—Archie terrified you because maybe, just maybe he would make you feel something more than you’re comfortable with. You wanna know what’s wrong with you? Princess, your problem is being a coward, too wrapped up in your perceived emotional trauma of having morally questionable parents to even consider what real hardship looks like.”

“Right, because you didn’t break up with Betty because you were scared! Tell me, exactly, how you weren’t being just as much of a coward as I was!” Veronica hissed, her dark eyes snapping with intensity and more than a little pain. Jughead glowered at her, opening his mouth to retort and then snapping it shut again as he finally broke eye contact.

Something cracked inside him then, as he looked up at the ceiling of Pop’s. The pain he had tightly wound up in his own chest was suddenly exposed, fresh and raw, and he felt the hot sting that threatened tears. Jughead closed his eyes against it, fingertips digging at the bridge of his nose to will the sensation to subside. A small sniff cut through the sounds of the diner, and he opened his eyes just in time to see the single tear roll down Veronica’s cheek.

“Tell me again how we’re so different in this scenario,” she repeated bitterly, her hands dropping her phone on the table in order to wrap around her arms. The fire that had been in her eyes just moments ago was completely doused, swimming instead with a loneliness that felt all too familiar in Jughead’s gut. He had spent the last year liking Veronica for the most part, even appreciating her at times, but he was honest when he said they didn’t actually know each other well. Right now, he realized perhaps he had avoided knowing her any better. Some primal part of him sensed something too close to his own damaged sense of self. Veronica may have gotten the hugs from her mother that Jughead still longed for from his own, but now he saw the kind of love and validation she missed out on. She was affection starved; so much so, that she didn’t know what to do with it when it finally arrived in her life.

“We’re different, in that I’m an asshole and you’re a jerk,” Jughead said, not unkindly, as he slid out of his side of the booth and in next to Veronica. One of his hands gently fell over hers, and when he felt how cool it was to the touch, he closed his fingers over hers. “There are nuances of meaning,” he added with a sly half smile.

That earned him a small, hiccuping laugh, and the last of the tension melted away. Veronica leaned, suddenly looking exhausted, and laid her head against Jughead’s arm. To his surprise, he didn’t stiffen or shy away from her; her presence felt natural, welcomed even. He so rarely felt physically at ease with others that he learned to not ignore it. A year, and many trials and tribulations later, and only in this moment was Veronica Lodge finally his friend.

“I have never heard my parents say ‘I love you’ to each other. Not once,” she confessed quietly. “But I never even noticed until a couple of days ago. It’s not in my vocabulary.”

“My parents used to say it all the time,” Jughead said softly, staring hard at the plate of half eaten french fries. “Until they didn’t. Until Mom used it as a weapon, flinging it in my father’s face along with his world’s worth of disappointments.”

Veronica turned her hand under his, lacing her fingers with his to give them a squeeze. “No wonder we were drawn so hard to Betty and Archie,” she murmured. “I’m not saying they don’t have their crosses to bear, but even under the weight of their baggage, they’re both just so... good. And we’re just...”

“Shadows always crave the warmth of the sun,” Jughead agreed, his gaze going soft as his mind crept back to the image of loose blonde hair bouncing in the afternoon light. “But it always ends up being too bright.”

“And you wonder why I think of you when I seek some hard boiled noir charm,” she said fondly, lifting her head to look at him with a hint of smile in her warm brown eyes.

Jughead shrugged with a half smile of his own. “We all end up a slave to our stereotypes once and a while.”

“Well, this stereotypical spoiled Princess wants to drown her sorrows in a double chocolate shake and onion rings,” Veronica declared, shooing him to exit the booth. She stood up after him and gave her head a small shake, as if throwing off the last of her malaise and reclaiming her usual charm. “And I require commiseration, so what do you want? My Daddy’s plastic is buying.”

“Free food at Pop’s? Ronnie, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship,” Jughead declared.

“Oh, Jughead,” Veronica sighed with one of her signature smiles. “You have no idea.”

The night moved on with not one but several rounds of junk food, the hours slipping by punctuated only by the milkshakes being replaced with coffee. They sat together and talked, studiously avoiding anything related to Betty or Archie and instead finding common ground in books and movies, and arguing animatedly when their tastes did not align. Though Jughead did find himself contradicting her once or twice just for her reaction—he wasn’t sure what he enjoyed more, her indignant huffing or her habit of throwing food at him in protest.

“Guillermo Del Toro’s cinematography is quite possibly the most beautiful thing in this sad pathetic world right now, and don’t you think of contesting it, Jones!” She said, laughing as she hurled an onion ring across the table.

Jughead successfully caught the onion ring before it hit the table,rolling it on his index finger like a hula hoop. “But if I agree with you, I think you stop feeding me,” he countered before shoving the onion ring in his mouth.

Veronica opened her mouth to reply but her phone vibrating on the table caught her attention. She picked up the device and swiped to read a message. Her expression clouded over almost instantly; a complicated swirl of emotion churning in her dark eyes before she she shut it down completely. Once again, Jughead was struck by the sense that they had more in common than he previously cared to admit. How many times had he done the same thing, reigning in his emotions so quickly and so tight he almost couldn’t breathe from the pressure of it?

“Well, it appears 1:42am is the official time the meal ticket shuts down,” Veronica declared breezily, dropping her phone into her purse. She met Jughead’s gaze with a soft smile, a warmth filling her expression that he had only ever seen turned towards Archie or Betty before now. “Thank you, for an illuminating evening.”

“We’ll have to do it again sometime,” he replied easily, sliding out of the booth the same time as her.

“Yes, we will,” Veronica said, almost fiercely. “As often as we can.” And with that she closed the distance and hugged him, full bodied and warm. She slipped her arms under his denim jacket, her fingers pressing against his back and instinctively he wrapped both arms around her shoulders, one of his hands giving her arm a soft squeeze.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice soft against her hair. “I’ll clear my schedule.”

Veronica laughed a little, and after a moment she finally pulled out of the hug. “See you soon, Jones,” she said, tossing the words playfully over her shoulder as she left Pop’s.

Jughead stayed standing for a moment, the memory of her hands lingering on his back, and the writer inside him willfully ignored any implications that went with the observation. He was far too much of a realist to actually believe he and Veronica would start hanging out like real friends... but he did find himself cautiously optimistic. 


	2. Cunning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place inside of episode 2.09. In which I cannot help but point out Riverdale’s inability to actually fact check their own show, but decide to mine it for character choices.

It shouldn’t have surprised Jughead to find a text waiting for him from Veronica Lodge the very next morning. Though he had not witnessed first hand her dogged efforts to make a friend out of Betty, he had heard the stories in vivid detail. When Veronica Lodge made a decision on something, heaven and earth better not bother standing in her way.

So it shouldn’t have surprised him, but it did. 

His phone buzzed with the incoming text and he reached out blindly, his face still buried against his pillow while he groped over the dresser. His fingers wrapped around his phone just as it buzzed a reminder, and he lifted his head, blinking away some of the sleep. On the face of his screen he saw the entirety of the message on the preview.

**V says: Alien!Ripley or Aliens!Ripley?**

Jughead felt a grin tugging at his lips despite himself, unlocking his phone and tapping back his reply rapidly.

**Jughead says: Jesus Christ, Ronnie, that’s like asking a mother to choose between children**

And just like that, Veronica made good on her promise. They chatted randomly through out their days via text, until one night her rebuttal about Stephen King’s prose included an addendum about meeting at Pop’s to continue the debate in person.

An unspoken agreement was formed after that; about once a week, they would take turns playing location scout, finding a place and a time where they could be free from the prying, gossipy eyes of the town, and just hang out. He never brought up the stress of trying to find a way to navigate his relationship with his father and the gang he now felt passionately loyal to. She never talked about her father’s shady business dealings or how much she noticed her mother drinking these days. Neither of them touched the subject of the Black Hood with the proverbial ten foot pole. They discussed pop culture and art and voted on who had the stupider assignment from English that week. (Jughead often won, and lorded over his winnings with fried food.) He had a sneaking suspicion this was what being a teenager was _supposed_ to feel like. This, in turn, made him absolutely certain it couldn’t last... but he had already carved one important person out of his life for that exact reason. He didn’t have the emotional fortitude to do it again so soon.

Two days before Christmas, Veronica demanded that he meet her at the Bijoux to see The Shape of Water with her. 

**V says: I am purchasing your ticket right now. You’ll be paying me back by admitting afterwards that Del Toro is clearly winning Best Director and that you were a fool to put your money on Christopher Nolan**

“I’m not denying the movie is gorgeous, but did you even see Dunkirk?” Jughead demanded. He held up a finger, getting them both to pause right outside of the theater. He tipped back the box of Goobers in his hand, pouring the remainder of the candy directly into his mouth before tossing the empty cardboard into the trash.

Veronica rolled her eyes, pulling on a pair of leather gloves as they began walking to the exit. “Why—why oh why do boys always want to give the edge to war movies?”

“I don’t know what offends me worse, the implication I’m a boy, or the implication that I follow a lemming like standard of boydom,” he replied. They exited the theater into a cold, starry night of downtown Riverdale. They had gone to the late show, and so close to the holiday meant the streets were all but deserted. They walked leisurely, only vaguely in the direction of the Pembrooke, no real goal in mind. Jughead liked whenever their time together culminated in a walk. It often turned their talk to Riverdale at large, and Veronica had unique insights that only someone who didn’t grow up in the middle of it all could have. The outside perspective made him stop and think about things in new ways all the time.

It definitely improved his writing, and that was definitely the only reason he enjoyed her cutting commentary. Clearly.

“Hey, if it walks like a stunning example of pedestrianism and has movie opinions like a stunning example of pedestrianism...” Veronica said, her tone biting but her smile playful and warm. He rolled his eyes and scoffed, she laughed at his failure of a comeback, and they walked along a moment in comfortable silence.

A comfortable silence was a difficult thing to find, and Jughead had great appreciation for them.

“Do you ever miss Riverdale High?” Veronica asked suddenly. 

He snorted in reply. “Talk about stunning examples of pedestrianism, Ronnie.”

“Look, I know to some extent high school is high school,” she said. “But it sounds like you are miles more intelligent than most of your teachers. Don’t you miss actually learning something at school?”

Jughead blew out a long breath, one hand absently adjusting the beanie on his head. “You mean do I wish someone would even bother to notice when I sleep in class?” He shrugged. “Sure. And I mourn the inherent lackluster nature of my transcripts combined with how I check none of the minority boxes that offer decent scholarships. But what’s done is done, Macbeth, there’s no changing that.”

Veronica arched a brow in his direction. “Now that your dad is out of jail, aren’t you officially a resident of your old address?” she prodded, her voice soft. “IE, where you were living when you attended Riverdale?”

It was like she had thrown a bucket of cold water over him; Jughead opened his mouth to reply but no sound came out. He laced his hands together behind his neck, putting pressure there as his gaze fell down to the snow covered sidewalk. He slowly came to a halt, and though he couldn’t see her, he felt Veronica lingering at his side. It’s not that he hadn’t thought about what she was inferring, but he had been trying hard to avoid it.

“Y’know, you might be a little to observant for your own good, Lodge,” he finally said, his voice sounding strangely hoarse in his own ears.

She looked at him a moment, her lips pursed in thought before she reached out. One of her hands clasped his, the leather of her glove strangely warm against his bare skin. “You can have more than one set of friends, Jug. You won’t lose them just because you go to a different school.”

Jughead couldn’t stop the withering look that came to his face. “Right, because me leaving Riverdale didn’t effect my friendships there at all.”

He expected Veronica to drop his hand then, possibly turn away from him in a huff, or get a delicately hurt expression on her face. Instead she squeezed his hand tighter and stared him down, an intensity in her large brown eyes. “That’s on you, not your global positioning, and you know it. I am not passing any judgement here, just stating facts.”

“And the point you’re getting to with all this fact stating?”

Veronica shrugged. “That I think you can have your cake and eat it too, in this particular scenario. And that if the Serpents are half as committed to you as you are to them, you’ll keep them in your life.” Then she finally released her grip, beginning to walk again at her previous slow pace. “But more importantly, I am utterly sick of the pathetic level of class discussion. Reggie would not shut up about how the reason Hamlet is going mad is Ophelia not putting out. He seriously said that. In front of people.”

Jughead lingered where he stood, watching Veronica saunter in front of him. She moved into a pool of light coming from a street lamp, and he realized it was beginning to snow again, flakes as tiny as grains of sand floating down from the sky. They fell on the brunette’s hair and coat, catching the light like glitter. He was suddenly bowled over by both Veronica’s intelligence and shrewd calculations illustrated in such a short conversation.

“Veronica, you were born in the wrong century,” Jughead declared, walking to catch up with her. “You could have wrapped the Medicis around your little finger.”

She turned back to look at him with one of her sugary smiles. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“But you did sacrifice one precious pawn, that I will in no way let you forget,” he added.

Veronica’s gaze narrowed ever so slightly, the only crack in her sweet veneer. “Oh really?”

Jughead grinned. “You miss me,” he stated simply. He kept walking down the street, reveling in the satisfaction he got from how she paused on the sidewalk. He waited for the rebuttal but it never came; instead Veronica simply fell back in step with him, a comfortable silence falling between the two of them again.

“Asshole,” she said fondly.

“Jerk,” he replied.


	3. Guile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who left kudos or wrote comments. It truly does feed the muse to get feedback, and it is greatly appreciated, thank you again!
> 
> This chapter takes place during 2.10, and does include some retconning of that episode to fit in my universe. I haven’t seen 2.11 yet so i’m not if i’ll continue in that manner or not. (If you have any feelings on that, let me know!) Also, to clarify: because timelines are NOT this show’s strong suit, I’m treating this season as junior year.

After Jughead got the news of Southside High’s effective immediately shut down, his first impulse was to text Veronica.

He sat on the steps of the dilapidated building, phone in his hand, thumbs hovering over the keys as he stared at his most recent messages with her. Since Veronica and Archie started dating again, Jughead had seen her less but she had texted more, as if to compensate. They texted just last night; she bemoaned the underwritten female characters in Baby Driver, he analyzed the dizzying amount of time it must have taken to choreograph the entire movie to music. But they had also talked about their parents; the frustration of being intentionally looped out of things they should be involved in, how much they both hated feeling the need to be involved in things no normal teenager should be dealing with. He wasn’t exactly sure when the scope of their conversations widened beyond the safety of pop culture, but he found himself grateful to have someone who listened, without the annoying desire to find a way to “fix it.” Jughead couldn’t fix his family being an integral part of a gang anymore than Veronica could fix her dad being Riverdale’s very own Kingpin. It was something Archie, or even Betty, never really understood.

He hesitated another moment, mulling over the absurdity of the Uptown Princess Supreme actually being the one who ‘got’ him, and then pushed it back to be analyzed another day.

**Jughead says: Well, you better pull out all the stops for my triumphant return, Lodge. I’m talking trained baby elephants serving me champagne level of celebration**

**V says: With such short notice, I can only produce Kevin Keller serving you the finest muffins and bagels in all the land . But they’ll be on the family silver, so...**

Jughead grinned in spite of himself.

**Jughead says: y’know, whatever deity you sacrificed a goat to must have been displeased, your summoning Spell for me clearly backfired. I’m bringing half the Serpents with me**

**V says: pfft, you say backfire, I say bonus**

**V says: And seriously, you think I offered a goat? I’m not a heathen**

**V says: blood of virgins or bust**

**Jughead says: you got that on a bumper sticker?**

**V says: I’m actually in the T-shirt business but always looking to expand**

Jughead stuffed his phone into the pocket of his jacket and stood, arching his back until he heard a satisfying number of pops and cracks. Maybe going back to Riverdale High wouldn’t be the worst thing ever.

—————

“God, this is the worst,” Jughead growled, slouched against a bar rail in the White Wyrm. He wasn’t sure what he was referring to more—the bullshit happening at school, or the way he seemed to be the only member of the Serpents that actually cared.

From her seat, Toni rolled her eyes. “What’s the worst? How we actually have a computer lab? And enough textbooks for everyone in class?”

“Yeah, Jones, Riverdale is the sweet life, what is your deal?” Sweet Pea aggressively stabbed at the controls of the arcade game, his eyes glued to the screen.

“They want us to shed our skins!” Jughead insisted, tugging on the lapel of his jacket.

“Dude, you know you sound like an ass when you quote the laws like that, right?” Sweet Pea replied.

“Look, Jug, Southside shutting down is the best thing to happen for us in a while,” Toni added, her tone more gentle. “If I have to hang up my jacket for eight hours a day to get a real education in this town, sign me up.”

“Y’know, Jughead, I think I just realized the Serpents number one problem—you clearly don’t listen to the women nearly enough.”

Jughead whipped around, straightening up as he saw Veronica standing on the other side of the rail. She was wearing her cape and pearls, with an impeccable dress and high heels that could double as a deadly weapon. The contrast between her and the bar she stood in was comical, and somehow also stunning.

“Ronnie—of all the gin joints in all the world...?”

Veronica smiled one of her signature smiles, stepping up to the rail. “Oh, this place actually serves gin? The last time I was here, the options were shitty whiskey or shitty tequila.”

“Oh, the gin is definitely shitty too, but the key is find someone who can make a mean dirty martini with it,” Toni piped up, her voice practically a purr. 

Veronica turned her gaze to the pink haired serpent, arching a smooth brow. “Exactly how dirty are we talking here?” 

Jughead blinked, attempting to process what he was witnessing. Did Veronica really just flirt back at Toni?

“Filthy,” Toni replied with a grin, hopping off of her stool. “Want one?”

“It’s five o’clock somewhere,” Veronica replied, slipping her cape off her shoulders with an elegant shrug.

Toni just laughed in response, moving off in the direction of the bar.

“I don’t think I can handle this,” Jughead muttered.

“I could stand to hear a little more,” Sweet Pea interjected, still not looking up from the arcade game.

“Relax, Nathanial Hawthorne, flirtation is practically my first language, no reason to get your panties in a puritanical twist,” she said, claiming the empty stool.

“It’s not than I’m not charmed by your ability to seduce anything on two legs, V,” Jughead said dryly. “But why are you here?”

“There’s business to discuss,” Veronica said. “This is where Serpents talk business, right?”

“What business would that be?”

Veronica gave him a look. “Look, I dunno what stupid pills half this town has been taking this year, but I need you to stop.” Jughead made a noise of protest but she held up a hand to silence him. “I need the Jughead who ran circles around the sheriff and caught a killer his sophomore year. Loyalty is great, but you shouldn’t be sacrificing intelligence for it.”

Jughead leaned against the rail next to her; he knew the body language read as petulance, but he couldn’t help it. Maybe he was feeling a little petulant. It was the second time in less than ten minutes someone had given him crap for attempting to be noble about something. “Contrary to popular belief, I am a teenager and not necessarily a wide learned man, so maybe cut me a little slack, Princess,” he grumbled.

“Caps lock Harry Potter has all my sympathy, but he’s just not that useful to me right now, so tap into some Slytherin pride.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do! But I’m surrounded by turncoats. Literally, they’ll turn their coats inside out just because Weatherbee—“

Veronica leaned over, pressing her manicured fingertips against his lips to silence him. He scowled, the scent of her almond hand cream suddenly flooding his brain. He liked it better than the vanilla and spun sugar stuff Betty had always used.

...

He _definitely_ did not have the capacity to unpack that thought, or it’s timing.

“Jug,” she insisted, pinning him with her dark eyes. “Listen. To. Me. You, and all other Serpents, need to play the long game. Take a step back, lie low, and make it impossible for Reggie or Cheryl or any of them to even fake a reason to get you into trouble. Look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under it.”

Jughead’s eyebrows climbed up toward the rim of his beanie. “Tell me you did not just Lady Macbeth me. Take a moment to remember exactly how well it went for the Macbeth’s, and then tell me you didn’t just do that.”

Veronica rolled her eyes. “I’m talking decidedly smaller potatoes than usurping a throne via murderous intent, here,” she said dryly. “You’ve been telling me ever since I moved here about the divide between the Southside and the Northside, and how Southsiders get zero chances to better their circumstances. This is a massive opportunity for the entire younger generation of Serpents to do exactly that. But only if you play ball.”

Jughead huffed a small sigh, staring at Veronica as he mulled over her words. Toni returned with two martinis, setting one down in front of the brunette with a crooked grin. He didn’t hate it when Veronica was right all the time, but he did hate when Veronica was right about something he should have already known. 

He watched as Veronica seamlessly turned her attention to Toni, the two women sharing a laugh over their drinks. He watched the pinnacle of Northside money and Southside grit, enjoying each other’s company, even if only for a few moments.

He really did need to listen to the women in his life more. 

“Snakes do specialize in camouflage,” Jughead said, more to himself than to anyone else. 

“Jones, have you had this girl’s martini before? This is killer,” Veronica said, lifting up her glass.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked, tilting his head as if a different angle would allow him to unlock secrets. “Why do you have any interest in helping the Serpents find their place at Riverdale?”

Something bloomed in Veronica’s features, a blip of emotion he couldn’t yet name, before disappearing. A softness replaced it, the one that confirmed for him he was in Veronica’s inner circle. “You’re my friend, Jug,” she said. “But I can’t punch through half the football team for you to prove it. Cunning and guile, that’s what I do.” She picked up her martini to take another sip. “And maybe some sorcery on the side.” 

“Sorcery...” Jughead repeated, the word coming out slow even as his brain picked up speed. Pieces suddenly fell into place, and for the first time since dealing with Penny Peabody, he felt like he was actually working ahead of something again. 

“What?” Veronica asked, her expression puzzled. “What is it?”

Jughead closed the distance between the two of them, taking the brunette’s face in his hands. She met his gaze, didn’t stiffen or pull back from him, and he suddenly remembered the last time he placed his hands on someone’s face like that. 

“You’re a genius, Ronnie,” he said, quickly dropping his hands away and shoving them into the pockets of his jacket. He could feel them still burning from the warmth of her skin, and he looked away, in the direction of the game Sweet Pea was still jabbing away at. “You’re a totally-correct-I-should-listen-to-you-more-often genius. I’ll take care of it from here.”

“Oh-Kay,” she said slowly, standing up from her stool. “So everyone’s on the same page?”

“Definitely,” Jughead said, looking back to offer her a half grin. “See you in school tomorrow.”

Veronica lingered a moment longer, looking as though she might say more, but instead she shrugged back on her cape. “Sounds good.” She reached into her purse, pulling out a twenty and laying it next to her glass. “Thanks for the drink,” she said, giving Toni slow wink. She walked out of the bar with a steady clack of her heels on the wood, and was gone just as abruptly as she arrived.

“I like her,” Toni declared. “We need to keep that one around.”

“She’s hot,” Sweet Pea said in way of agreement.

“She’s taken,” Jughead snapped, sounding more aggressive than he meant to. “And you never even looked up at her.”

Sweet Pea shrugged calmly. “Don’t have to stare at a girl like that to know she’s hot.”

Jughead made an irritated, noncommittal noise in response, turning away from Sweet Pea and being greeted by one of Toni’s shrewd looks. She tried to claw into his head through the sheer intensity of her eyes sometimes. It unnerved him, especially because she turned out to be pretty good at it.

“What?”

“Nuthin,” Toni said slowly. Whatever she might have gleaned, she clearly wasn’t in the mood to share. “So what’s this master plan your muse just inspired you with, MacB?”

————————————————

The next day at school, Jughead finished exchanging books from his backpack to his locker and moved to shut door. Doing so revealed Veronica standing there, her back casually leaning against the lockers next to his. How she managed to sneak up on anyone with the shoes she wore was a skill he highly admired.

“Role playing,” she stated, her expression somehow entertained and confused all at once. 

“Mm-hmm,” Jughead hummed. 

“The brilliant idea I gave you, was roleplaying?” she said with a small incredulous shake of her head. “I have to hand it to you, that is... not something I ever would have thought of.”

Jughead half shrugged, a hint of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “If we can’t be freaks, let’s be geeks,” he replied.

The two fell in step together; Veronica in pearls and Prada, Jughead in his sheepskin jacket with nary a serpent logo in sight. They still got looks, even without his leather. She didn’t bat an eyelash about it, though. Her friendship was fierce, and all encompassing.

The Reggie Mantles of the world didn’t stand a fucking chance.


	4. Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place after the events of 2.11.
> 
> I had no idea when I started this that I would be throwing in so much angst and (gasp) Plot! But here we are! I sincerely hope you are enjoying this ride, gentle reader. The burn, she is slow, but the pairing, she is epic, so fear not!

Ever since his friendship with Veronica Lodge truly began, Jughead knew it couldn’t last. Just like the shining, beautiful moments he held Betty in his arms and got to call her his, something in his gut told him that he and Veronica were fooling themselves by thinking they could maintain a vacuum in which to hold their friendship.

Riverdale didn’t let people simply exist. Riverdale always made sure there was something to tear you down, strip you bare, and leave you lonely. In fact, Jughead couldn’t think of a single individual alive in Riverdale that he wouldn’t call lonely.

Only the dead kept company here.

Jughead sat in the empty Blue and Gold offices, fingers drumming impatiently on the desk. He willed himself to not look at the clock on the wall, then ended up staring at the screen of his phone instead. It still wasn’t actually 3:30pm yet, but it was 3:28pm, and he wanted to be irritated at Veronica for being tardy. He wanted the satisfaction of being able to start on the high ground, but in an example of his usual luck, right when his phone screen flipped to 3:29, she came through the door.

Veronica wore a filmy cream blouse, a pencil skirt, and a guarded expression. They hadn’t spoken directly in over a week, before the Picken’s Day disaster. Since that day, even their text conversations had been terse. Jughead hadn’t wanted to get into anything with her; not until he knew for sure. Not until he had proof.

“Hey,” Veronica said quietly, shutting the door behind her. 

“Fredo,” Jughead replied curtly.

“Excuse me?” Veronica slipped her purse off her shoulder, depositing it onto one of the desks.

Jughead shook his head slightly; how did a pain that was so familiar manage to catch him off guard every time? How did it always feel so new? “Y’know, I really bought it,” he said. “And that’s on me. I should’ve known better.”

“Bought what—Jughead, what are we even talking about?”

He shoved his chair back, the metal feet skidding loudly on the linoleum, so he could stand. “When you said you were doing this out of friendship, I fucking believed you,” he spelled out. “I thought, gee, just because her last name is Lodge, doesn’t mean she has to be just like her terrible no good very bad asshole parents, right? _Right_?”

For the first time Jughead saw what Veronica’s face looked like when she was hurt. Her expression crumpled, a small breath leaving her lips as though she had been physically wounded. It was delicate, and beautiful, and it made his chest twist painfully. 

In that moment, he hated her for making him feel that way with just a look.

“I don’t know what you’re high on, probably moral superiority,” she said, her voice shaking slightly. “But how about you cut the harsh shit and just tell me what is going on.”

Jughead pressed his lips together in a thin line while he reached blindly into his backpack. The manila folder was on top and easy to grab by feel. He threw it down on the desk in between them.

“You told me to stop taking the stupid pills, Veronica,” he said, his tone bitter. “So I did. After your father’s rousing speech at the Picken’s Day celebration, I also went back to basics. I did research.”

She reached out with a hand, slowly flipping open the folder to begin looking at the reams of photocopied papers. 

“Lodge Industries has been quietly picking up extra property beyond the original scope of the SoDale project for months,” he continued. “And the pattern of property makes it pretty clear your father wants the land Southside High currently stands on. To make that happen, the integration of Southside students into neighboring schools had to be successful. They need to be able to sell the community on there being no reason to waste resources on reopening the school.”

Veronica looked up from the papers, her expression still hurt and confused, but her voice was strong when she spoke. “So what? I meant what I said to you, Jughead, I swear. This is the chance for the divide to finally crumble, this is going to give the Southside a real chance to be something more! Why can’t you see that—this is to make Riverdale better!”

“Because, Veronica!” Jughead slammed a hand down on the desk, making her jump slightly. He angrily flipped pages until he got to the city map that he had previously highlighted, and pointed to the bright yellow line. “With the properties already owned, Lodge Industries only needs the land of the high school and one other property in order to have a clean line from Sweetwater River to the highway. The only other property owner who had real estate that connected those two were the Blossoms.” He straightened up to his full height and turned away from her, staring at the frosted glass window instead. “If your Dad secures those two properties, he could reopen the heroin trade that used to run through Riverdale.”

“What?” she gasped. “You—you think my father... Drugs? Are you insane?”

Jughead closed his eyes against her protests, a hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Princess, it was time for me to stop being selfish, now it’s time for you to stop being naive.”

“I am not naive, I am realistic!” Veronica insisted, coming around the desk to stand in front of him. “My Daddy’s sins may be many, but drug cartel is _not_ one of them! My family is trusting me to be a part of the business because I’ll be eighteen in August and we’re taking the company legit, Jug, that is the reality here. Jug—hey, look at me.” She reached up, her manicured fingers gently grasping his jaw to turn his gaze down to her. “Look at me, I am all cards on the table here.”

Jughead felt his lower lip quiver slightly and he licked his lips to halt the action. His heart, already battered and cracked in so many places, splintered a little further when he saw such earnestness in her face and realized he couldn’t trust it.

“Did... Did you even want to be my friend, Veronica, or did Daddy Dearest send you?” he asked hoarsely. 

For a moment he was certain she was going to slap him. The color drained from Veronica’s face, and such an icy cold fury crossed her that he could practically already feel the sting on his cheek. But she only dropped her hand away from his chin, taking a step back from him as she blinked rapidly.

“I can’t believe you would even think that of me,” she whispered, her voice thick. “How could you even think that...?”

Jughead looked away and shrugged, grabbing up his backpack and slinging it on his shoulder. One of them was going to break soon, tears were going to fall like crushed diamonds, and he absolutely could not handle it from either of them right now. “That’s the problem with being truly good at what you do, Veronica,” he muttered. “Once someone realizes you’re trying to get everyone to trust you, no one will.”

He began to move out of the room, when he felt her grab his wrist. He considered wrenching it away, but her grip was actually so soft, so hesitant, that he allowed it to still his motion, but he refused to look back.

“You said it would take two properties to make the clean line from river to highway,” Veronica said. “What would he need besides the high school?”

Jughead huffed out a small sigh. “Pop’s, Ronnie,” he replied. “All he would need is Pop’s diner.”

He felt her release his wrist, dropping him as though his skin burned her. 

He didn’t look back to see her stunned expression.

————————————————

That night Jughead laid in bed, his message history with Veronica open on his phone. He stared at it for close to twenty minutes. For roughly three of those minutes, he saw the tell tale ellipsis bubble pop up, signaling that the person on the other end was actively typing a message.

She never hit send. 

————————————————

Four days later, Penny Peabody showed up at the White Wyrm and Jughead’s first instinct was to call Veronica.

He wanted someone he could share his panic with; he wanted to admit to someone he had no idea how to fix this, that he was in completely over his head. He wanted to say how he missed solving murders rather than dealing with the fucked up politics of this town, and he wanted to be able to say out loud that he had made the wrong choice, choosing his father over his friends, and have the person listening to him not judge him for it.

He made no calls. He sent no texts. He drank eight cups of coffee and sat up all night at Pop’s instead.

————————————————

Eleven days after that, Jughead attempted to bring up his findings on Hiriam Lodge to Betty.

He stood in the Blue and Gold offices with the same folder full of papers, walking Betty through the evidence with a much kinder and more patient approach than he had taken with Veronica. But Betty had been distant ever since he returned to Riverdale High. Her gaze was unfocused, her mind somewhere else when he spoke. She tugged at the sleeves of her sweater, and swiped at a stray lock of hair, one of several that were falling out of her messy bun. She had stopped wearing her signature ponytail to school a couple of weeks back.

“He’s buying up even more land, sure, but jumping to drugs is kinda a stretch, Jug,” Betty said, her tone simultaneously gentle and slightly condescending. “If you find out anything more, let me know, but I have to get home.”

Jughead shoved his folder back into his bag. He couldn’t decide if he was mad at being dismissed so quickly, or worried about the circles under Betty’s eyes. 

————————————————

Six days after that, he went to Archie’s and played the new Castlevania game for almost five hours. 

By the time he left, Jughead was choking on all the words they never exchanged.

————————————————

Ten days after that, almost one month to a day after his confrontation with Veronica, Jughead literally backed up into her.

He went to the county records office to do more digging into Lodge and Industries and the SoDale project. Like any other company wanting to fly as under the radar as possible, they had next to nothing available online. Legally they weren’t required to, only hard copy was necessary. Just like legally, the county records office wasn’t required to have a filing system that made any goddamned sense.

Perhaps that last bit had just been a personal observation. But given the amount of time Jughead spent there in the last few weeks, he felt confident in the assessment.

His eyes were glued to the most recently documented inspection of Southside High, a hefty 189 page document clutched in his hands, while he slowly moved backward next to a row of filing cabinets. He was looking for the most recent appraisal of the property to compare the two documents. He hadn’t seen another person here, pretty much ever, except when the front desk clerk would come by to tell him they were closing up. He had no reason to expect he would see anyone, let alone step on them.

The jostle of his back colliding with another body made Jughead jump, the inspection report flying out of his hands. He heard a distinctly feminine squeal, and barely managed to turn around without tripping on his own feet to see who he had almost trampled.

Veronica was on her hands and knees on the floor, clearly having been just pushed into that position. Her hair was uncharacteristically up, piled high on her head in one of those buns that used to be solely reserved for ballerinas but cropped up everywhere now. She looked up and drew in a sharp breath when she recognized Jughead.

Running completely on instinct, Jughead held out a hand to her. He couldn’t honestly say how he felt about her after a month of radio silence but he also wasn’t a complete dick. Veronica stared at it a moment, seeming to weigh the probability of it biting her, before she finally slid her hand into his and accepted the help to her feet. She wore flats instead of her usual towering heels, and Jughead couldn’t help noticing just how short she was compared to him. He would have made some sort of remark about it, but his throat felt too tight to speak.

“Thanks,” Veronica said softly, her dark eyes intensely searching his face. 

Jughead just shrugged. “Sorry about the shove.”

Veronica shrugged back, and for a moment only a heavy curtain of silence hung between them.

“What’re you—“

“Why are you—“

The both stopped, realizing they had started talking over one another. Veronica ventured a lilting half smile, one of her hands coming up to the back of her neck. He recognized the gesture—wearing her hair up made her self conscious, she had confessed once over a late night milkshake. 

_”I have a scar on the back of my neck. It’s fairly gnarly, and not at all graceful,” she said. She liked to play with the striped straw that came with her shake, twirling it between her fingers fast enough that the colors blurred. “Very not Upper West Side.”_

_“Just tell everyone you got it in a knife fight in Israel,” he suggested. He leaned over, dipping several fries directly into her chocolate shake. She wrinkled her nose at him, even as she laughed._

_“Why Israel?”_

_He grinned. “It’s the details that sell a good lie, Ronnie,” he said, right before shoving the fries into his mouth._

Jughead pressed his lips together, willing away the threat of a smile that came with the memory. Like he ever needed to school a Lodge on how to lie.

“I—I’ve been wanting to talk to you,” Veronica started.

“But you haven’t,” Jughead replied shortly.

She blew out a short breath. “God, you really never let anything happen easy, do you?”

“It is my blessing, it is my curse.” He reached down, scooping up the report he had dropped.

Veronica reached out when he wasn’t looking, claiming one of his hands again. He looked up in surprise, and he saw tears shining in her eyes.

“My father already owns Pop’s,” she whispered, barely giving voice to the words her lips formed. She looked around after she spoke, as if afraid that someone had overheard her.

Jughead felt her hand trembling in his, and suddenly realized that she was afraid. “...what?”

“I found the deed to the property before Christmas, tucked away in one of his office drawers. That’s when he told me about wanting me to take an active role in the business, when we all talked about Lodge Industries turning itself around, but now....” Veronica had been talking rapidly, still in a hushed tone, and only then drew a slow shuddering breath. “Jughead, I have no idea what my father really has planned for anything anymore, and I am terrified.”

Instinct took over again, and Jughead folded his arms around Veronica, pulling her against his chest. Her whole body shook when she wrapped her arms around his torso, and he felt his t-shirt growing damp. She cried silently against his chest, and the knot he had carried there for the last month finally loosened. He had missed her; he missed her as much as he missed Archie, as much as he missed Betty...

...Maybe, in some ways, he missed Veronica more.

“I’m sorry I was such an asshole,” he murmured, one hand gently stroking her back. “I’m sorry I thought...”

Veronica sniffled, then pulled her head back so she could look at him. Mascara had run under her eyes, ringing them like smoky, grungy eyeliner. “You had reason to think that way,” she said. She used the heels of her hands to gently brush away the tear tracks on her cheeks. “For a hot minute I was all Cersei Lannister for my dad. I was trying to help him with getting the property from the school.”

“Be fair to yourself—you’re way more Margery Tyrell,” Jughead replied with a half smile. “Or one of those Dornish hotties. They’re way more capable in the books, I promise.” 

Veronica hiccuped a short laugh. “Haven’t you gotten in enough trouble with stereotyping recently, Forsythe?”

“Ouch, pulling out the real name, low,” he winced, but chuckled all the same. “C’mon, sit down.”

They both moved to the small table around the corner that Jughead had his research piled on. “If you’ve known about Pop’s since before I brought it up, why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Because—I didn’t want to believe it, at first,” she admitted as she sat. “But then I wanted to get the deed as proof. Pop Tate and my dad came to a private sale arrangement, there’s no record of it here. But then when I went to look at it again—“

“Your dad has moved it to locations unknown,” Jughead finished.

Veronica nodded. “I’m still not saying it’s drugs—but that doesn’t mean it couldn’t be smuggling other things,” she said. “I don’t know what the end game is, but there definitely is one he’s not sharing. I don’t even know if my mom knows it. But then as soon as I wanted to Nancy Drew this thing wide open, Archie started this—this _internship_.” She wrinkled her nose, as if she could smell the bad cover story from Pembrooke right then.

Jughead sighed and nodded, becoming lost momentarily in his thoughts. Everyone in school knew about Archie’s newest business opportunity with Hiram Lodge. Archie had stopped playing music to pursue it. 

He had stopped talking to pretty much anyone that wasn’t Veronica at that point too.

Jughead watched Veronica as she pulled her hair down from its bun and carded her fingers through the dark locks. Everyone knew she was beautiful, but it was like this: hair messy, makeup imperfect, wearing her most comfortable clothes.... This was what made Jughead suddenly realize that Veronica was stunning.

Good God, he needed to focus.

“I don’t know what to do,” Veronica admittedly quietly. She propped one elbow on the desk and rested her head in her hand, fingers buried in her hair as she stared off into space. “I’m having to play Dutiful Daughter in front of my parents and now Archie too—I’m starting to wonder if he knows more than I do but I don’t...” she swallowed. “I don’t know where his loyalties lie. Jesus, I can’t believe I’m saying that about Archie Andrews.”

“Archie has a way of getting in over his head, pretty much always,” Jughead said. “He’s also probably the worst liar since Pinocchio, so it’s best we don’t compromise him until we have to. Your dad would crack him like a bag of pistachios.”

Veronica worried her lower lip with her teeth as she flicked her gaze back to Jughead’s face. “What the fuck do we do?”

“I don’t know,” Jughead admitted slowly. He reached out with a hand, gently tucking a stray lock of dark hair behind her ear; he found himself unable to resist the impulse, even though he knew he should. He knew he needed to stop giving into the urge to touch Veronica whenever he could. Had he learned nothing from the disaster that was his relationship with Betty Cooper?

“I don’t know, but we’re gonna figure it out together.”

This was such a bad idea.


	5. It’s Complicated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings, gentle reader! Thank you everyone for the continued kudos and bookmarking, and of course, those who leave comments! Your support has been overwhelming and has definitely spurred on my writing, I cannot thank you enough for the support.
> 
> These crazy kids have definitely taken the story in their own direction since I started, I hope you enjoy it as much as I have.

_Or you could stay.... Stay._

For a precious few moments, the world was right for Jughead Jones. 

He didn’t expect it, and he definitely didn’t deserve it. Which was probably why, when Betty seemed distant, he didn’t say anything. When Betty showed up without warning and tore at his clothes with abandon, he let it happen. And when his gentle questions got shut down with flimsy answers, he didn’t press. He wanted to be there for her, actually support her the way he always should have, and if that meant letting her have space, he could deal with that.

He was sort of okay with having some space, anyway. He never directly told Betty how he and Veronica were secretly working on bringing down Hiram Lodge. And Betty, surprisingly, lost interest in the pursuit of more information as soon as Jughead stopped talking about it in front of her.

Betty had lost interest in most conversation, really. And while the seventeen year old teenage boy body part of him was very okay with that, a growing concern gnawed at the back of his brain.

School was almost out and warmth had returned to Riverdale. Jughead was still on probation with the Serpents, which meant he had no idea where or why his father had left town that morning, just that he wouldn’t be back the rest of the weekend, leaving Jughead alone in the trailer on a Friday afternoon with nothing to do.

Jughead had his phone in his hand, contemplating the option of trying to coerce Betty into an evening activity even though she had already begged off at school, when he heard the knock at the trailer door. He stood up, but hesitated on actually answering. In this last year, it had been very rare that anyone had shown up at the door with good news. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to deal with what was on the other side.

But then his phone buzzed in his hand, and he saw the message on the screen. 

**V says: Jug?**

Jughead shoved his phone into his back pocket, a bolt of concern shooting down his spine and motivating his quick pace to the door. Even in the last couple of months of them investigating her father, Veronica never came to the trailer, just like he never went to the Pembrooke. She respected the fact that he actively disliked others seeing this side of his life, and he respected the fact that showing his face anywhere near Mr. Lodge might very well put a target on his back.

He opened the door and his breath caught in his throat. He had never seen Veronica look quite like this. She was impeccably dressed as always, but all the color seemed to be drained from her face under her makeup. Her dark eyes, usually so clear and luminous, looked utterly hollow, and even when she tilted her head up towards him, her gaze never really focused on him. It reminded Jughead of Mustang’s eyes when they found him in the tub: dead.

Wordlessly Jughead pulled her inside, shutting the door on the sunny afternoon and leaving them in the dim light of the trailer. He held onto her bare upper arms, aghast to realize she was trembling despite the heat outside. For a moment, he thought she might be physically ill; she wobbled on her feet even though she was standing still. Cursing under his breath, Jughead led Veronica to the couch, sitting her down before kneeling in front of her.

“Ronnie,” he said, doing his best to keep his tone soft despite the growing knot of panic in his gut. He gently took her face in his hands, forcing her eyes to meet his. “Veronica, what happened? Please, talk to me, V—you’re freaking me out a little, not gonna lie here.”

Without making a conscious decision of it, one of Jughead’s thumbs gently stroked her cheek, and only then did Veronica seem to break out of her trance. Her eyes finally saw him and her face completely crumbled, a single sob wracking her entire frame. “Th-they.... They’re having—an affair,” she gasped.

Jughead’s brows furrowed in confusion, though the panic drained out of body. For a serious moment, he had been worried someone had been killed. “Who?” he asked. “You mean your mom and...?”

Veronica let out a choked noise that in some other life might have almost been a laugh, if it weren’t so bitter. “No, Jug. Archie. A-Archie and... ArchieandBetty.” She blurted out the last bit as though it were a single word, and from the expression on her face, it physically pained her to do so.

Jughead attempted to sit back on his heels, but missed and slid straight down into his butt on the dingy carpet. He vaguely noticed Veronica continuing to speak but he couldn’t make it out—all he could hear was a terrible, vast rushing noise. Like the sound he heard once at the Centerville Dam. His vision swam, a hundred different insecurity driven nightmares he’d had of this exact scenario flashing before him in one horrifying collage. He only became aware of the trailer again when he felt cold fingertips on his neck, chilled thumbs against either side of his jaw and suddenly Veronica was in front of him, two glittering tracks of silent tears racing down her cheeks.

“Jug...” she whispered, broken. “Stay with me, please...”

“H-how...” Jughead cleared his throat, attempting to sound less hoarse and failing. “How do you—“ He shook his head, his hands reaching up to grasp hers and pull them away. “No, wait.”

He stood up on unsteady legs, pulling Veronica up with him as he did so. He deposited her back on the couch before turning to move into the small kitchenette. His limbs felt like they were moving with weights attached but he willed them into motion all the same, rifling through cabinets until he found his goal by feel more than by sight. Somewhere above it all, he was aware he was in the middle of the worst anxiety attack of his life, but acknowledging that fact didn’t help it any.

He grabbed two glasses from the clean side of the sink and moved back to the living room, shuffling almost zombie like. He set the two glasses down on the battered coffee table, then spun open the cap on the bottle of bourbon in his hand. 

“I definitely need to be as numb as possible before we go any further,” Jughead declared as he poured.

Veronica looked at him questioningly. “Are you sure...?” she began, but he silenced her with a look. He couldn’t say what his expression held in that moment but she nodded. “Could I have some ice?” she said instead.

Jughead wordlessly went to the fridge and came back with an entire ice cube tray. He dropped several in both glasses, left the rest in the tray sitting on the table, and sat down heavily next to Veronica. He handed her one glass, then held his aloft, looking at the amber liquid with pursed lips.

“Alright, Dad,” he muttered. “Let’s see what all the fuss is about.”

Roughly an hour later, Jughead finished pouring the third round of whiskey for Veronica and himself. The first round had been drunk in complete silence. In the second, Jughead initiated a conversation on how torn he was about loving The Usual Suspects but hating Kevin Spacey. Veronica had commiserated on how problematic she found reconciling her adoration of Diane Keaton with the fact that the actress kept defending Woody Allen. They both agreed on Woody Allen’s inherent skeeze factor, which is about the point Jughead felt the alcohol actually hitting him, as he realized he was having to work extra hard to make sure all the syllables came out as they should. 

He twisted the cap back on the bottle and turned his entire body to hand Veronica her glass, sitting sideways on the couch to look at her. “So...” he said slowly, licking his lips. “H-how do you—I mean, are you....”

“I’m sure,” Veronica said, looking down into her glass as if it held answers. She still sounded in complete control of her finer motor skills, Jughead noted with a small frown. How was it fair that she drank the same as him and held her liquor better?

“I went by Betty’s to see if she wanted to join me on in an impromptu shopping date,” she continued. “Chic answered the door and said she wasn’t home but would be soon, and that I—I could wait in her room...”

Veronica paused to take a long sip of her drink, and Jughead closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing. He felt physically ill, he realized, and blindly set his glass back down. He wanted to blame his rolling stomach on the booze, but he knew better.

“Paranoid anxiety dream number sixty seven,” he muttered. “Seeing too much through those goddamned windows...” 

Veronica sucked in a sharp, shaky breath. “Archie has always been an idiot about his curtains,” she said with a hysterical laugh. “God, this can’t be happening...” 

Jughead reached out, barely managing to catch her glass as it slipped from numbed fingers. His aim was less true when he tried to put it down on the table, and the remaining contents spilled as the glass tumbled to the floor. “Shit—aww, to hell with it, this floor’s seen worse...”

“This is cosmic retribution,” Veronica declared slowly, slouching until her head rested on the back of the couch. Her skirt rode up high on her thighs, her shirt rumpled on her abdomen, but she didn’t seem to notice or care. Jughead blinked, forcing his gaze to travel upward back to her face. 

_Focus, Jones, Christ._

“You think there’s some mystical score board that’s trying to balance out here?” he asked.

“I’m Catholic,” Veronica replied, as it was the most obvious fact in the world.

Jughead sighed, letting the side of his head connect with the back of the couch. It put his face close enough to hers that he could smell almond and sandalwood, and the painful ache in his chest intensified.   
Because between the anxiety ridden visions about Betty and Archie, and the terrifying nightmares of gang business gone wrong, once and a while, Jughead dreamed of that smell, and of hair dark as a starless night instead of gold like sunshine. He tucked these dreams carefully to the back of his mind, in the same realm of impossibility as his family getting back together and of Santa Claus being real, and tried his best to ignore the guilt and shame that came along with them.

Veronica was his friend. He loved Betty.

But apparently Betty didn’t love him. At least, not enough to avoid hurting him this way. 

“You didn’t deserve this,” Jughead murmured. “Maybe I did, but you definitely didn’t.”

Veronica’s brows knitted together. “This must be your absolute worst nightmare,” she replied softly. “No way you deserved that.”

“Maybe it’s punishment for standing in the way of the inevitable ,” he said with a heavy, pained sigh. “Archie and Betty—a match made in some torrid version of storybook heaven.”

“No—no no,” Veronica said with a shake of her head, her eyes beginning to fill with tears again. “I saw the way you two looked at each other, you were soulmates, you had serious ‘you complete me’ vibes and I somehow did something—“

“No,” Jughead cut in vehemently. “This has nothing to do with you, Ronnie. Betty and I...” he trailed off, his gaze becoming unfocused as he thought back on the relationship. “Ever since we got back together, something’s been wrong. I didn’t want to admit it, because I felt so lucky she even considered letting me back in but... it’s like even when we’re together—like, _together_ together, too—some piece of her is always miles away. Maybe I should have seen this coming.”

Veronica turned on the couch so that her position mirrored his, lounging on her side, her right cheek on the couch cushion. She drew her legs up however, curling in on herself, and after a moment curled in further, her cheek moving to rest in Jughead’s chest. His free arm folded around her without thought and she was suddenly practically in his lap, fingers clutching onto the edges of his flannel like she might slip to her doom if she didn’t. 

“I don’t know what to do,” she whispered against the soft fabric of his T-shirt. “I can’t break up with him.”

“What?”

Veronica tilted her head to look up at him. “If I tell my father I broke up with Fred Andrews’ son because he cheated on me... I swear to God, Jug, I think he might kill them both.”

Jughead let out a shaky breath. Veronica tucked her head back down and he rested his chin lightly on her hair. “Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Can’t you just, I dunno, say you got bored?”

Veronica shook her head ever so slightly against his chest. “Daddy has put time and energy into Archie, he’s made it clear to me he considers him an... investment. He would be suspicious if I broke up with him now, he’d find out the real reason why.”

“Shit,” Jughead repeated.

“Yeah,” Veronica echoed.

Jughead sat on the couch of his trailer, holding Veronica, his slightly fuzzy brain churning with the overload of information. Most people might think Veronica was exaggerating about her father, but he knew better. He absently rubbed her bare arm with his hand, feeling her adjust her position to get more comfortable against him. It was strangely soothing, this tiny bundle of warmth in his lap.

Then again, maybe not strange at all.

“What if we got Archie to break up with you,” Jughead said slowly, swallowing around the lump forming in his throat. “Could your relationship with your father handle blowing his investment?”

“What do you mean?” Veronica asked, her voice slightly muffled against his shirt.

“I mean....” Jughead dropped his head back, looking up at the ceiling. “God, this is a terrible idea, nevermind.”

She lifted her head then, staring for a moment before her eyes widened in realization. “Oh. _Oh._ ”

“Forget it, it’s soap opera dumb,” he said.

“It is, like or or not, the best option I can think of,” Veronica insisted. She sat up in his lap, one of her thumbs coming up to her mouth so she could chew on the nail as she thought.

“Maybe we should try thinking about this when we’ve not been drinking and emotionally gutted in the last 4 hours,” he suggested.

Veronica flicked her gaze back over to his face, searching. “I’d rather rip the bandaid off as soon as possible,” she mumbled, dropping her hands into her lap. “We’re supposed to have a date tomorrow and I can’t even think about it without wanting to throw up.”

Jughead mustered up the ghost of a sad smile. “That really could be the booze y’know —water, let me get you water.”

They both stood up from the couch, and he couldn’t help but notice the way Veronica’s glassy eyes were suddenly staring at his mouth. He cleared his throat gruffly and moved back to the kitchenette. He tried to get ice for the water, only to realize the ice cube tray was sitting half melted on the coffee table and blew out a frustrated breath.

“I’ll leave you out of it.”

Jughead spun around to see Veronica standing in her bare feet at the edge of the carpet. She couldn’t quite look at him when she spoke, but her voice was soft and clear. “You don’t need you—I wouldn’t ask you to—“

“What, you think I would leave you trying to find an opportunity to suck face with Reggie Mantle?” he scoffed.

“I was thinking of asking Sweet Pea,” she replied with a small shrug. “He thinks I’m hot.”

Jughead rolled his eyes. “God, has the code for thinking a girl’s hot always been not looking at her? How did I miss that memo?”

A soft, brief smile graced Veronica’s lips. “Each man has his own charms, Jones. Not everyone can convey oceans of text in their eyes the way you can.”

Jughead raised a brow. “And what are my eyes writing for you now, Lodge?”

The brunette finally entered the kitchen, closing the distance between the two. She took one of his hands in hers, lacing their fingers. “That we’re in this. Together,” she murmured. 

He nodded and took a slow breath. “Okay. So. How long have we been sleeping together behind their backs?”

“The Devil is in the details,” Veronica agreed softly.


	6. No, Wait, This is Complicated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gentle readers, you seriously know how to keep a gal going. Your comments seriously have spurred my writing, and I am so so grateful for it! We’re really about to kick into some higher gears soon, have patience and enjoy the ride!

Constructing a fake affair was more work than either of them initially anticipated.

They ordered a pizza, put away the bourbon, and opened up Jughead’s laptop. They pulled up Veronica’s calendar on her phone, and drank copious amounts of water while they started to plot out an outline of events. 

It might have been easier if Veronica had just asked Sweet Pea to be a make out buddy at a particularly opportune moment, but she was worried that spontaneous lip locking wouldn’t be enough to convince Archie to break things off. After all, given his track record, he might just feel the urge to be extra forgiving to ease his own guilt.

“Assuming he actually feels any guilt,” Veronica muttered, a fierce note laced in her voice. The tone brought a ghost of a smile to Jughead’s face. It was reassuring to hear fire flowing through her veins again. 

So the decision was made: a full blown affair. Jughead meticulously plotted entire subplots of stories that never actually made it to paper, and Veronica prided herself on doing nothing half assed, so they ended up passing a note book back and forth as they ate. They initially butted heads, however, on how to even begin.

“Ronnie, how exactly do you expect me to pick a date that I first kissed you if I don’t know my motivation for it?” he insisted. 

Veronica looked at him with a classic side eye. “What makes you assume you kissed me first, Jones?”

He held his hands up in momentary surrender before reaching for another slice of pizza. “If you wanna wear the pants in this relationship, I have no problem with that, but my question still stands.” He couldn’t help but study her face, that back realm of impossibility in his brain clamoring to hear her response. “Why did you kiss me, Veronica?”

She didn’t respond right away; she stared at her phone, thumb scrolling through her calendar over the past few months. Finally her thumb stilled, her teeth worrying her lower lip for a moment. “March 3rd,” she declared. Her voice had a tight quality to it, and she dropped her phone back on the table, pulling her legs up under her on the couch. “It was the first night that Archie went to go run an errand for my father that he wouldn’t tell me about. We fought about it, and I found you at Pop’s.”

Jughead blinked as his mind whirled back through time. “You did find me at Pop’s that night,” he remembered. “You said you weren’t there to talk shop, so we bitched about the Oscars and you made me look through over three hundred red carpet pictures on my laptop.”

A soft, brief smile crossed her lips. “And you let me, with minimal complaining.”

Jughead shifted on the couch, shrugging his shoulders uncomfortably. “You seemed upset,” he said, his voice soft, before he added hastily. “I know how trashing other people’s fashion mistakes can be uplifting for you.”

That earned him a small chuckle, and Jughead felt a moment of relief bloom in his haze of misery. Veronica had a laugh that could stop wars, and apparently ease heartache.

“We left Pop’s and I stood with you by your bike while I waited for my Lyft,” Veronica continued. She picked up the notebook and pen, scribbling down the beginning of a timeline as she spoke. “Right before the car came I kissed you, and didn’t give you a chance to ask about it before I left.”

Jughead sucked in a soft breath, watching her as she continued to write. He remembered that night distinctly, because it was that night, standing by his bike, that he first had the urge to kiss Veronica Lodge.

The red neon from Pop’s signage had made her hair glow with an almost purple hue, and her smile, which had been so sad when she first got there, was so warm for him right then. Somehow he had been at least partly responsible for making that shift, and he had felt more than a little pleased with himself for it. It had felt like the only thing he had done right in a long time.

He had completely lost track of whatever Veronica had been saying and when he snapped back to attention he swore that her dark eyes were looking at his lips. A warmth curled low in him and rushed through his limbs, and for a single wild, terrible moment he was sure he was going to kiss her.

But then a car pulled into the parking lot, and the moment passed, and Jughead was left sitting on his bike for a good half an hour after that, convincing himself that what he had felt was only a sleep deprived, sugar induced moment of delirium.

Had there been less crazy in that moment than he had originally thought?

Jughead stuffed the last bite of pizza into his mouth, buying himself a few precious moments to think before speaking. Now was definitely not the time to be trying to read too much into anything. They were both still hurting, immensely, and probably plotting the single most ridiculous way to force a break up ever. It just wasn’t the time.

He wiped his hands on his jeans, earning an eye roll from his companion as he plucked the notebook from her hands. “That following Monday at school—we ended up spending the lunch period together, but nobody else knows that,” he said.

Veronica thought for a moment before nodding in confirmation. “I said I needed to check on the cheer squad’s fundraiser and you said you had Serpent business, but we wanted to compare notes on research since I had waved off doing it over the weekend.”

“Wellll, in this version I slipped you a note in second period to meet me in the Blue and Gold offices and we made out during lunch,” he decided, speaking slowly as he wrote quickly on the timeline.

Veronica quirked an eyebrow, turning on the couch enough to be facing toward him. “So why’d you decide to kiss me back, Mr. Pathos?” she asked.

Jughead slouched back on the couch, absentmindedly sticking the pen behind one of his ears. “Pretty much as soon as Betty and I got back together it became.... she was either zero or eighty miles an hour, no in between. She either didn’t have time for me, or she just wanted to...” He shifted, feeling his skin flush as he realized he was talking about his sex life with Veronica. Even in the vaguest of terms, this was more information that he had literally given to anyone else. “But that hurts, feeling like you’re only good for one thing, and even though I thought I deserved to be hurt like that I—I guess I just liked your kiss pretty well.” He let out a sigh, then finally turned his head to look at her. “That or we reenacted Han and Leia’s argument that led up to their kiss in Empire. I was in the role of the Princess, clearly, because I happen to like nice men.” 

“I _am_ a nice man,” Veronica replied in the perfect purr, unable to resist. For a moment they just shared a smile, two battered souls finding brief glimpses of joy in something frivolous.

She reached out a single hand, her fingertips brushing an unruly lock of Jughead’s hair out of his eyes while on their way to pluck the pen from behind his ear. “You never deserved to feel that way, Jug,” she murmured. She then turned her attention back to the notebook, suddenly all business as she held the pen aloft. “So, do you love me?”

Jughead choked at the bluntness of the question.

“Hey, you were the one who wanted to talk motivations here!” she insisted. “And you’re right—if we made out in the beginning of March and it’s now the middle of May, what’s the reason we keep coming back? Is it love, is it comfort, is it dirty kinky stuff the white bread wonders aren’t interested in?”

“Is there dirty kinky stuff you’re into that you actually want to fess up to me right this moment?” Jughead asked with raised eyebrows. The baser instincts in him were suddenly dying to know, even as the rest of him recoiled at the potential embarrassment of unlocking a Pandora’s box of information.

Veronica pursed her lips in thought, but he swore there was a playful glint in her eye as she stood up. “I want more water, you?”

“Wow, what that was quite possibly the weakest attempt at deflection I’ve ever seen from you. You did stick the landing though, so I’ll be generous and award it a six.”

“The judges from the Eastern Block are always so unsympathetic,” Veronica sighed. She moved into the kitchenette to retrieve her water, still wandering around barefoot in his home.

Part of the reason Jughead never wanted Veronica over before was he always assumed she would... react. Not that she would intentionally judge his level of poverty, but he knew how people of privilege acted when presented with this kind of life. Unconscious cues of pity or disdain that he would never be able to forget. Not sitting comfortably, as if afraid the couch would leave a stain on their clothes. Politely refusing a glass of water as if it were potentially contaminated with something. Eyes desperately looking for something to compliment, which inevitably was “charming” or “unique” in an attempt to ease their guilt of thinking of the entire contents of the space as trashy. He never wanted to be in a position to see Veronica do that. 

But here she was, her bare feet on the scratched linoleum, drinking water straight from the tap. She lounged on the couch as if it weren’t lumpy and worn out, and she hadn’t batted a lash when Jughead gave her napkins to eat the pizza with instead of plates. It almost wasn’t fair, how wildly she had exceeded his expectations in this scenario.

He stood up and followed her, leaning against the frame that connected the two rooms, his arms folded over his chest. When Veronica turned from the sink she caught him staring at her, and with a half smile she boosted herself up to be sitting on the vinyl countertop. “What is it?”

“If it’s more than just hormones driving us, will that be better or worse for things with your dad?” Jughead inquired.

Veronica opened her mouth to reply and then clapped it shut again, tilting her head as she thought. “Well, if it’s not just hormones, it would probably mean a longer charade,” she said slowly. 

“At least until the end of school before we could flame out spectacularly,” he agreed.

Veronica pursed her lips, an expression of concern crossing her face. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“I’m the one asking,” Jughead replied, taking the few short steps to close the distance of the kitchen between them. Sitting up on the counter, Veronica was almost at height with him. “Would it make things better with your dad if we did?”

“I don’t know about better... But it could be my chance to make a clean break from the business,” she confessed softly. “I lost the person I fell in love with to my father’s business, so I went out to find comfort in a person he could never corrupt.”

Jughead swallowed, suddenly feeling the weight of Veronica’s gaze on him. It made a familiar heat race through his limbs, making him feel hot and cold all at once as his brain desperately tried to weigh in with how bad it was to mix hormonal teenagers with massive heartbreak. “It’s a strong narrative,” he told her, his voice low. “I’d buy it.”

Veronica nodded slowly, her gaze going slightly unfocused as her mind wandered to places unknown. He wanted to reach out, thread his fingers in her hair and ask her to take him with her, wherever she was going in her mind; ask her to help make the situation and this town and these people just disappear, but his arms remained glued in their folded position. She licked her lips, the lipstick long gone from them, and it took every ounce of self control he had left to not simply give up and kiss her then.

“So how do we blow our cover?” she asked.

Jughead blinked, a dozen different scenarios flashing through his brain. They were easy to conjure, having had so many visions of Betty and Archie getting caught in compromising moments. But now he was filling the bodies in question with his own and Veronica, each one more compromising than the last, and he suddenly couldn’t look her in the eye anymore, the flush rising in his face. He turned away, moving to the sink under the pretense of more water, when mostly he was interested making sure the lower half of him was distinctly not in her line of sight.

“Well, uh... Unfortunately Archie has no real reason to come here unless I explicitly invite him, and sneaking me into the Pembrooke while he’s on Demonic Henchmen Duty sounds like a recipe for someone going to the hospital,” he reasoned. 

“So public places,” Veronica agreed, letting in a heavy sigh. “School, probably?”

“Maybe the parking lot of Pop’s?” he countered with a shrug.

“God, this sucks, I would never be this dumb if we were actually sleeping together,” Veronica grumbled.

Without meaning to, Jughead barked out a laugh. “I know, right? There are a million places we could have sex that Betty and Archie would never think of.”

“The movie theater.”

“The town library.”

“The White Wyrm.”

“The cemetery.”

“Jughead Jones, are you an exhibitionist?” Veronica laughed. There was a blush in her cheeks that made him feel suddenly a little less panicked, a little more confident about talking about anything sexual out loud.

He couldn’t help but throw her a small grin. “Maybe we can be into some kinky shit and be in love,” he threw out. He intended it to be a casual joke, but he knew there was something deeper laced in it as soon as the words left his lips. The two of them shared a look, and as much as he wanted to say something, anything to relieve the sudden tension in the room, his throat went tight and his mouth went dry and he could only stand there, all too aware of how close Veronica was.

“Talk about living the American Dream,” she finally said, her voice a throaty murmur. She forced out a small laugh and finally broke eye contact, sliding off of the counter. “I, ah—I should go, it’s late... Maybe I could come back by tomorrow, though? Y’know, finish getting our story straight.”

The thought of being left alone in the trailer with only his thoughts for company filled Jughead with an overwhelming, aching pain. His impulse was to ask her to stay, and yet the words died before they ever came to his mouth. The last time he asked a girl to stay had brought him this searing grief he currently wallowed in. He couldn’t willingly ask for that again.

“Tomorrow is good,” Jughead finally got out, nodding his head. He busied himself with gathering up the remains of dinner, willing himself to not look in Veronica’s direction, too afraid she would see the panic and sadness in his face and respond with pity. “Just text me when you’re free.”

Right as Jughead straightened up with a pizza box in his hand, he felt a pair of arms snake around his middle, and suddenly Veronica was hugging him from behind, her cheek pressed against his back. He was certain with the height difference it would have looked comical to the outside eye, but he appreciated the warmth all the same.

“I don’t deserve a friend as good as you,” she mumbled, arms giving him a momentary squeeze.

“Well, there we’ll have to agree to disagree,” he replied. He turned around in her embrace, so that his free hand could wrap around her shoulders and he could finally reciprocate the hug. They stood that way for a long moment, simply breathing each other in, before Veronica finally untangled herself from him. She collected her things and slipped on her shoes quietly, and with a final sad smile, she exited the trailer and left him alone.

Jughead slumped back down on the couch, pizza box still in one hand, his eyes going glassy as he sat enveloped in the silence. He cleared his throat gruffly, tossed the box to the floor, and picked up the notebook instead. If he wasn’t going to sleep—and he definitely wasn’t—then he might as well get some work done. 

He got some of his best writing done fueled on way less heartache.


	7. Just a Ruse

Getting punched in the face so hard your vision blurred and your head felt like it was going to spin off created a vacuum of space and time in which to reflect on a lot. Jughead was already familiar with the concept, but when Archie Andrews clocked him in the jaw, he got another taste of it.

In the precious few seconds between the moment Archie’s fist collided with his face and when he went down sprawled in the dirt, Jughead’s brain sent him away remove him from some of the pain.

It was Saturday, and Veronica had shown up at the trailer right after dark. Her parents thought she was on a date with Archie—Archie thought she was sick at home. She was dipped into a royal purple wiggle dress that did nothing to help Jughead with his previous vow to keep his ill timed crush under control.

“Sorry,” Veronica said as she entered, pulling a face and gesturing to her attire. “But my parents would notice if I didn’t dress to impress....”

Jughead just shook his head as he shut the door. “Of course. No problem. So I think I got a timeline pretty much completely mapped—“

“I think we should kiss now,” Veronica blurted out. 

“I—ah—w-what?” Jughead choked, unable to keep the heat from rising in his face.

“It’s supposed to be old hat for us,” she reasoned. She dropped her purse on the couch and looked at him squarely. “We need to get the first kiss jitters out so it doesn’t give us away.”

“And you don’t even bother to buy a girl dinner first,” Jughead replied, forcing a slight laugh. He moved to the kitchen, trying to buy both physical space and thinking time. He was in no way prepared for this to be the beginning of his night.

“I’ve actually bought you dinner more than once and stop deflecting, you know I’m right!” Veronica trailed after him, closing what little distance he had gotten. She looked up at him with that defiant, strong expression he recognized as her business face; a shrewd stare that didn’t give him room to wiggle.

“No really, how does anyone resist that charm?” Jughead deadpanned. He took a step backward, only to miscalculate and end up bumping back into the drawers with an audible thump.

“Jug,” Veronica whined, rolling her eyes. “I’m being serious—“

One of Jughead’s hands threaded through Veronica’s loose dark hair, cupping the back of her head and drawing her mouth to his. He was working on a buzzing rush of adrenaline and sleep depravation, and it made him act without thought.

He kissed her with complete abandon; fingers digging into her scalp and tongue plundering her mouth, his body whipping them both around to have her be the one pinned against the kitchen counter. He drank in her throaty moans of approval even as his hands wandered, restless and ravenous to feel every curve and swell of her—

“—are you even listening to me right now?”

Jughead snapped back to reality, sucking in a harsh breath as he realized just how badly his mind had wandered. He glanced down at Veronica, and saw her concerned expression as she bit her lower lip.

“How much sleep did you get last night?” she asked softly.

Jughead licked his dry lips and shrugged. “Who needs sleep when there’s caffeine and horrifying sexual mental imagery to keep you awake?”

He put up no struggle as Veronica took his hand and led him back to the couch. A single lacquered nail pressed square in his chest and he folded down onto the worn cushions without protest. The next thing he knew there was a tall glass of water in his hands, a sandwich on the coffee table, and Veronica Lodge at his side, her attention entirely focused on the paper she was writing on. 

“I think I just fell asleep sitting up,” Jughead declared with a small groan.

“You definitely did. Drink your water.” 

“Mom voice. You must be worried about me,” he muttered, but he did as he was told.

Veronica rolled her eyes, and handed him the paper. “I need you coherent enough to not see double. What do you think?”

Jughead shook his head ever so slightly, attempting to will the fuzzy edges to refocus as he read. In signature red ink, he saw what appeared to be Cheryl Blossom’s handwriting.

_Roses are red_  
_Heartbreaks are blue_  
_Poor Archie is hoodwinked_  
_He hasn’t a clue_

With raised eyebrows, Jughead looked up. “Please tell me you’ve also learned to plagiarize your father’s signature on blank checks.”

“Working on it,” she replied dryly. “I can add a place and a time, that way we can avoid being suspended for indecent conduct at school.”

Despite himself, a small grin crossed Jughead’s lips. “You planning on being indecent with me, Lodge?”

Veronica rolled her eyes again, but he swore he also saw a blush gracing her dusky cheeks. “I just mean, we can avoid being quite so wildly public with this. News travels fast enough in TinyTown, USA, we don’t need to be caught in the cafeteria to be the head of the gossip chain.”

Jughead nodded, handing the paper back as he finished chugging the water. “It’s smart,” he said. “Cheryl’s always in everyone’s business, very believable.”

“Especially since she tried to blackmail Archie about his and Betty’s first kiss over Christmas, that crazy...” Veronica trailed off, her eyes going wide as she took in Jughead’s expression. He was fairly certain it was the same face he made when he got repeatedly punched in the gut by Serpents.

“Ohmygod, I’m so sorry, I thought you knew,” Veronica gasped. “Archie...”

Archie.

“ _Archie_! Archibald Andrews, stop it _now_!”

The sound of Veronica’s voice brought Jughead back to the present. The throbbing pain radiated from his jaw across his entire face, and when he tried to push himself up into a sitting position his vision went dim and it took everything he had to not give into the urge to pass out. But his mind wandered again in the momentary struggle.

It was Sunday, and after spending the entire night up at the trailer they decided to go to Pop’s for breakfast when the sky went from dark to dim. They got there far earlier than anyone their age would bother being up on a Sunday, and sat on the same side of the booth. After the revelation that Betty had been lying to Jughead since before they even got back together, they had agreed a mental break was necessary, and ending up watching almost the entire first season of Jessica Jones before giving into early morning hunger.

“Are you sure you’re okay with doing this tomorrow?” Veronica asked. She kept pushing her egg white omelet around on the plate with her fork without really doing any damage to it. 

“Rip the bandaid off, right?” Jughead replied. He snaked his fork over to her plate, spearing several home fries. He sighed as he chewed, glancing to his side to Veronica. She had on glasses rather than her contacts, having tossed them out somewhere around three am. He hadn’t even known she wore contacts before she was pinching them out of her eyes. “Unless—Ronnie, we don’t have to do this. We could find another way.”

Veronica met his gaze, tilting her head as she let out a soft sigh. She closed the small distance between them, and pressed a gentle kiss to his mouth. It wasn’t like his first kiss with Betty, all nervous energy and adrenaline—it was slow, and chaste, but somehow more meaningful than he ever could have anticipated. Instinctively one of his hands slipped up to her face, fingertips caressing the line of her jaw. Her lips lingered a moment, just long enough to burn the sensation of their softness on his, before she pulled back with a sad smile on her face. “See?” she murmured, a touch breathless. “Get all the shock and awe out of the way.”

Out of the..

“—get outta the way, Veronica!”

Jughead groaned softly as he managed to sit upright in the dirt, his vision finally focusing on the scene in front of him. Archie stood near the motorcycle, his face an ugly blotch of badly contained anger and pain. Veronica stood between the ginger giant and Jughead, a calm statue of strength against Archie’s vibrating fury.

“Not. Gonna. Happen,” she said, her voice nothing but brutal ice. 

For a moment, Archie and Veronica stared each other down before he finally blinked, turning his whole body away from the other two with a shuddering sob. Jughead reached over, grabbing his beanie out of the dirt before slowly climbing to his feet. 

“Archie, this isn’t—I didn’t....” Jughead just sighed, pulling his beanie back on his head. All the potential lines he had meticulously planned for this moment suddenly evaporated, leaving him speechless and awkward.

Even in the dim light of the setting sun, Jughead could see the angry tears in Archie’s eyes; the incredible pain honestly painted on his face. Despite in his own cracked, battered emotional state, Jughead still felt a guilty pang at being the cause of his former best friend’s anguish.

Then, somehow, Archie managed to race past Veronica and punch him again, and this time Jughead went down cold.

————————————————

The plan was actually quite simple, in the end. The note would get slipped into Archie’s locker, with the added details of when and where. They just needed to be there early enough to get into a compromising situation, and let nature take its course.

Jughead ended up suggesting a secluded but not totally remote pull in area near Sweetwater River. He convinced himself he chose it for purely strategic reasons, and not because he knew that Archie had met girls there in the past. Either he had never taken Veronica to that particular spot, or the vindictive streak in her found a similar justice in it that Jughead did. Either way, she agreed to the location without hesitation.

Which is how Jughead ended up sitting on his motorcycle parked in a beautiful little picnicking alcove, the sun setting off to the side, with Veronica Lodge straddling his lap. 

She still wore her dress from school, a matte black number that thankfully had a flirty wide a-line cut rather than the tight pencil skirts she sometimes wore. It allowed her to sit backwards on the bike, on his lap without having to pull her dress up to the waist. Even still, the bare skin of her thighs rested on Jughead’s jeans, and felt like they were radiating an unnatural amount of heat. Of course, so did her arms resting on his shoulders, and her waist, where his hands lightly hovered. Jughead was hyper aware of every shred of contact, even though none of it currently involved skin on skin.

Their kiss at Pop’s in no way eased any jitters Jughead felt. If anything, they only increased them. Because now he knew the softness of her lips, he knew she tasted of cinnamon, and he knew he absolutely wanted to kiss her again. 

Not needed to, for the charade. Wanted to, for himself.

Jughead met Veronica’s dark gaze, recognizing the nervousness under her cool exterior. He knew he needed to pull the plug on this—he knew going into it dishonestly would only result in eventual heartache. He couldn’t stand the thought of jeopardizing his friendship with her, the most important person he currently had in his life, over something as stupid as a poorly timed crush.

He felt Veronica’s hand slip against the back of his neck, fingertips burrowing under the edge of his beanie to sink into his hair. “What if he doesn’t show up?” she asked softly, chewing on her lower lip. She had opted for a kissing friendly nude gloss, rather than her more signature dark matte color. Despite his better judgement, Jughead allowed his hand to reach up, the pad of his thumb tenderly brushing her bottom lip to get her to loosen her grip on it.

“He will, bless his stunningly predictable if emotionally stunted heart,” Jughead replied, somehow managing to sound both bitter and amused. “Otherwise we’ll just hump in front of his locker before first period.”

The joke earned him a small laugh and Veronica ducked her head, her dark sooty lashes brushing down against her cheeks. Even as the better part of him acknowledged the terrible nature of the whole situation, Jughead gave into it. This was their plan, for better or for worse, and he would play his part.

He slipped his hand around to let his fingers thread through her loose hair, a mirror to her hand on him, and drew Veronica in for a kiss. His lips met hers gently, a complete contrast to the crazy rapid rhythm his heart beat out, and when she took the initiative to deepen the kiss, he sighed against her.

Veronica’s tongue swept into his mouth, and it was though she had flipped a switch. With a soft moan she hooked her heels against his calves, using the leverage to press her body flush up against his. Her hands moved boldly, finding the bottom edge of his t-shirt and sliding underneath to let her fingertips scrap down the bare skin of his back. Jughead groaned into the kiss, unable to stop the sound, just as he couldn’t stop his body’s reaction to her grinding down against his lap. His one hand tightened in her hair, the other gripping her waist, his feet slipping slightly in the gravel as he resisted the urge to buck up against her. Now that they were kissing, he suddenly couldn’t think of a single good reason they hadn’t been doing this all along. 

With a gasp, Veronica’s mouth parted his, but immediately fell against his neck, kissing and nipping the expanse of skin. Jughead sucked in a ragged breath, his head spinning from the sensation.

“W-We gotta stop meeting like this,” he joked, his voice more rough than he meant for. “English homework doesn’t just write itself y’know.”

Veronica ran her tongue slowly up the length of his neck, from collarbone to jaw. “Edgar Allen Poe versus HP Lovecraft—discuss,” she purred back. One of her hands grabbed his from her waist, pulling it along underneath her skirt to press his fingers against her bare thigh.

Jughead knew this was part of the plan, hands hidden under a voluminous skirt, allowing imagination to fill in the gaps of what could be happening under there, but his breath hitched all the same, fingers instinctively skimming against the silken skin. He dipped his head, his mouth brushing the lightest kisses against Veronica’s bare collarbones, and he swore he could feel her shiver.

“Lovecraft’s cosmic horror transcends Poe’s,” he murmured against her skin, the ragged sound of his breathing in stark contrast with the content of his words. His tongue snaked out, tasting the hollow of her throat, and he was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath from the brunette on top of him. “But Poe consistently creates better unreliable narrators.”

“S-Support your case with evidence,” Veronica murmured, rolling her head to one side to better expose her neck. He took the cue easily, mouth descending on her skin, trailing kisses back up to her jaw. His hand instinctively moved further and further up her leg, tracing circles almost to her hip and moving back down again.

“This sounds like me doing your work for you,” he murmured playfully, right before taking her earlobe gently between his teeth.

Veronica sucked in a sharp breath, and this time she definitely shivered against him. Her hips ground down on his lap, shifting his denim and yanking a low groan from the back of his throat.

“Juggie,” she said in a throaty whimper, and the nickname made him bring his head up to look at her. Her dark eyes were black, pupils dilated, and a flush ran from her cheeks down to her chest. She had never called him that before, and there was something about it, combined with the needy tone in her voice that broke him a little inside. 

This was more than a little ill-timed crush.

He was so screwed.

Jughead’s mouth descended on hers again, initiating a desperate kiss, lips and tongues battling one another. He felt her hands grabbing at his shirt, her hands actually fumbling against his belt buckle, and for the first time he had the fleeting thought that maybe it would be okay if Archie didn’t show up after all.

That was when he felt hands grabbing onto both of his shoulders; firm, huge hands that in no way belonged to Veronica, and suddenly Jughead Jones was dragged backwards off of his bike, Veronica barely managing to keep her balance backward on the seat as she was left alone. He got a brief glimpse of her, and amazingly the only thing he could think of was how beautiful she looked when her lips were swollen from kisses, and that was when the world exploded with a punch from Archie Andrews.

————————————————

When Jughead woke up, it was to his head sitting in Veronica’s lap, her tear tracked face looking down at his.

“Ohthankgod,” she breathed, setting the phone in her hand down in the gravel. “I thought I might have to call an ambulance, Jug, I am so sorry, I can’t believe this—I am s-so so—“

Jughead reached up with an unsteady hand, tucking her loose hair behind her ear. Even in the increasingly dim light he saw her starting to cry again, which was the last thing he wanted. “Shhh,” he mumbled. “I’m okay. Really. How long—“ He groaned as he slowly sat up in the gravel, one hand instinctively holding his head. “—Jesus, how long was I out?”

“Long enough to scare the living shit out of me,” Veronica snapped, glowering at him. Her anger clearly came from her panic, he couldn’t blame her. “But not really that long, I guess.”

Jughead took a moment to look around; his motorcycle still sat on its kickstand, and the sun hadn’t completely set, so it couldn’t have been too long. Archie was no where in sight. Veronica knelt beside him, her hair tangled and fresh tears still shining on her cheeks.

She was still the most beautiful thing, and Jughead’s jaw didn’t hurt quite so much as before.

“This was the stupidest idea, I can’t believe I put you in this position,” she whispered.

“Well, we’re in it to win it now, Ronnie,” he replied with a half smile. He could only manage that much with the swelling already starting in his face. “I mean, we are winning—he is...?”

Veronica nodded slowly. “Archie and I are done,” she murmured.

Jughead let that sink in for a moment. “Soooo..... now a good time to ask if you’ll go steady?”

She barked out a watery laugh. “Does this mean I get to wear your serpent’s jacket?” 

Jughead reached over, pulling his beanie out from where it rested in her lap. He gave it a quick pat to shake off the dust, then gently placed it on her dark hair.

“How’s that for a social cue?” he murmured. A soft, blushing smile came to Veronica’s face, one hand going up to touch the well worn knit.

“This goes with absolutely nothing, you know.”

“Which is how it manages to go with everything,” he replied. He slowly got to his feet, then offered both his hands to help her up as well. He pulled her into a hug, and felt how hard she grabbed onto him, how her breath hitched against him. He rested his chin against the top of her head, unable to stop the warmth stirred up by feeling the hat still resting there. 

Phase One had just been a success. A painful success, but still, it worked. 

Now came the hard part.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has followed this journey, the response has been overwhelming and heart warming! I truly don’t know if I would have written this much without such lovely support from the community.
> 
> For anyone fretting about this saying it is the final chapter, dear not, gentle reader! This is the end of this particular tale, only because I have a plan for a series now. So keep your eyes peeled for the next work!


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